


A Painting Made Of Light

by lady_libertine



Series: The Smith Of Probabilities [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, hotsprings, injuries, overexuberance post injury, qun baggage, solas and his hangups, solas is a terrible patient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 07:50:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13519782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_libertine/pseuds/lady_libertine
Summary: The heart once broken cannot be repaired, but its pain can be eased, and there is no one true solution.Solas and Iron Bull share a fascination that goes further than expected.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> the sequel nobody asked for but you got anyway!

Cadash and Sera were the first to return from their sojourn into the Oasis. 

“Those pools are something, aren’t they?” Harding said with a knowing grin.

Sera cackled and Cadash snorted. 

“I dunno, Harding, have you tried them out?” Cadash asked the scout, with a pointedly raised eyebrow.

Harding immediately went bright red and Sera just laughed harder. 

“I--well, they’re lovely to relax in--”

“I bet,” Cadash winked, and Harding went, if it were possible, even redder.

Eager to change the subject, Harding asked “Well--where are Iron Bull and Solas? They’re not back yet.”

“They aren’t?” Cadash blinked. “Huh. Well, it’s been a pretty long ride--I guess they wanted to wash off too.”

“Elfy’s probably fallen asleep somewhere weird,” Sera rolled her eyes. “Maybe he drowned himself.”

“ _Sera_ ,” Cadash smothered a grin and cuffed Sera lightly on the arm. “Just have the scouts keep an eye out for them. Knowing the two of them, they might have already gotten into the temple themselves.” either that or found a drake’s nest. Who was to say? 

It was some time later, almost dusk, when the pair returned.

“Bull!” Cadash exclaimed when she saw her large friend. “Where have you been?” 

Bull shrugged. “We kind of got turned around in the tunnels out here,” he said. Solas nodded. 

Keen-eyed Sera noticed a red mark on Solas’ neck, but he shifted, and the collar of his tunic covered it up again. She raised her eyebrows, and made a note to mention this to Cadash later.

“Find anything interesting?” Cadash asked.

“Not really,” Bull said.

“Yes, actually,” Solas glanced up at him. “There is a wide variety of plant life I had never seen before. Fascinating, really. The ruins of the temple also extend out further than what has been excavated--” 

“Alright, alright,” Cadash raised a hand. “Harding’ll love hearing about it.” Cadash didn’t have a lot of patience for archeological findings or botany, and once Solas got invested in a topic he quickly became hard for her to follow. “Was that what you two were doing? Wandering around the tunnels?” she peered at them. Their clothes bore some of the dust that was omnipresent in the Oasis, but otherwise, they were much cleaner than they had been that morning. 

Solas and Bull exchanged a look. 

“We examined one of the areas the scouts had not mapped yet,” Solas said. “The information might prove useful.”

That wasn’t an answer, and interestingly, Solas had acquired a bit of a pink flush over his cheeks. Bull, for his part, simply looked amused, but wasn’t being forthcoming. 

Cadash decided not to pry into it any further. She was, however, going to gossip relentlessly about her suspicions to Sera and Harding. 

That night, they camped within the Oasis, at the Inquisition outpost. Sera and Cadash claimed one tent, Bull and Solas another. Solas retreated to the tent while Iron Bull stayed out with Sera and Cadash for a bit longer. 

Usually, Solas would climb into his bedroll, pull his blankets over his head, and immediately fall asleep. He had been told that this was quite the enviable ability, as was his ability to sleep through the majority of disturbances.

Tonight, however, he hesitated. 

The encounter in the Oasis pools weighed heavily on his mind. He felt conflicted, uncertain as to where this could lead. 

In spite of it, and Bull’s presence close by, a pang of terrible loneliness swept through him. It was so sharp it made his throat ache. He didn’t know why he cared so very much about his isolation _now_ , when he’d been successfully ignoring it before. 

He supposed that it didn’t feel right, that he should take comfort when all the others were laying in the ground. He had things he needed to do, wrongs that needed righting, and to be here and to take companionship so freely offered--

Well. He didn’t know what to think. 

Iron Bull came back to find Solas still awake, idly drawing in a sketchbook he kept handy. 

“Hey,” Bull was a little surprised. “What’s up?”

Solas blinked, and looked round at him. Something in his expression troubled Bull, but his face quickly resumed its calm mask, and the troubling thing was gone. He set aside the sketchbook. “I was simply...thinking.”

Bull sat down on the opposite side of the tent. “Anything interesting? It’s gotta be, if you’re awake this late.” 

“I...simply had a great deal to consider.”

His tone, almost too placid, was also a bit worrying. 

“You alright?” Bull reached out, gently touched Solas’ hand. Solas flinched, and pulled his hand away, like the touch had burned. Bull tried not to feel hurt.

“We moved--very quickly,” Solas said.

“That happens sometimes,” Bull shrugged. “No need to get ahead of ourselves, though.” he examined Solas with a more critical gaze. He was wound up again, almost more tense now than he had been before, and he kept avoiding Bull’s eyes. 

Bull was suddenly, and oddly, struck with the memory of a warrior he’d met in Seheron. There wasn’t much to link Solas and the warrior, except a few trace mannerisms, but for some reason the two felt connected all of a sudden. 

“Bad thinking?” he asked Solas. “I know you don’t really have bad dreams, but that doesn’t stop bad thoughts.” 

Solas looked at him, and there was a flash of naked relief in his eyes for a moment before he smothered it. “In a manner of speaking,” he said. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

For a wild moment, Solas wanted to pour everything out to Bull. Not about the magic, not Fen’harel--very few people would understand that, even Bull--but he knew Bull would understand about blood, and battle, and death.

He would understand losing people you were responsible for saving.

But to explain that would explain too much, and one battle tale would lead to another, and another, and eventually, all would be lost. 

The words stuck in his throat and he shook his head. “Perhaps--another time,” when he could get the words arranged in a way that wasn’t so dangerous. When it didn’t feel quite so much like every breath he took was somehow taking away from others. “I--” his tongue seemed to outstrip his thoughts in speed. “I have...survived things that I am uncertain how I did so. Sometimes it is...disturbing to consider.” 

Bull nodded. “We’ve all had fights like that. Too much luck on my side and not enough on everyone else’s.” Bull wasn’t sure exactly what had made Solas think of that, the connection between then and now, but some important thread must bind them together. It seemed strange, but yet also it was just like Solas, for his mind to whirr without stopping, to jump from one path to another in such a peculiar way. 

Solas let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

“Then you’re stuck wondering why you’re here and not someone else. I get that. Most of the time, you’re just better than the other guy, but sometimes…” Bull shook his head. Bull really could relate. There’d been too many fights where an arrow had struck the soldier next to him, where a blade had sliced almost too close--sometimes it seemed like luck, or magic, that he was even alive.

Solas didn’t say anything. He just reached out and took Bull’s hand, pressed his lips gently to his knuckles. His breath ghosted across the back of Bull’s hand, and his eyes were still far away. 

There was something about Iron Bull that made Solas feel grounded. If this world were only mist and shadow, then Bull made it solid, made it real. His warm skin was an anchor, something that pulled Solas away from the weight of this world and its dead. 

He supposed perhaps he’d forgotten some of what life felt like. He spent so much time dreaming here that when he felt alive again, really alive, it came as a shock. 

He released Bull’s hand. “Forgive me,” he said. “I simply...have a great deal to think about.” how could he articulate in words how his mind refused to quiet? 

“Take all the time you need,” Bull assured him. “Seems like you like things complicated, anyway.” 

They slept apart that night, and afterwards, Solas resumed his previous discomfort with touch. Even when they were alone, he didn’t like to initiate touch, scarcely wishing to hold hands. The intimacy that they had shared in the Oasis might as well have evaporated. 

It worried Bull. He wasn’t sure what had gone wrong, if their encounter had dredged up some kind of unpleasant memories or Solas was simply getting cold feet. He was less talkative as well, not only to Bull, but to everyone. 

It was a moonlit night in the mountains when they had a conversation again--a real conversation, not just something needed on the road. 

The sky was clear and the stars were out, the moons full and bleeding silver light down onto the snow that surrounded their camp. They weren’t more than a few days away from Skyhold. 

Solas was awake. It wasn’t that he couldn’t sleep. He never actually had that problem. He simply enjoyed the sight of the moon and stars. There was something about late nights that soothed him, the light of the stars making him feel more like himself. Nights felt closer to the Fade than days did. 

Iron Bull came to join him, where he was out beyond the bounds of the camp, watching the stars. 

“What do the Qunari say stars are?” Solas asked him. He didn’t look at Bull, eyes tracing the constellations. Sometimes it was easier for him to speak if he couldn’t see who he was talking to. 

“Pretty sure they’re suns, but far away,” Bull said. “Something like that. Not sure how they figured that out, but I never was one for astronomy.”

Solas nodded. 

“You alright?” Bull glanced at him. It seemed he was always asking that, as Solas hardly seemed to want to display how he truly felt.

“I--” the words caught in his throat. “Forgive me,” he said at last. “Being alone...can make it quite difficult to recall how to be with company.” 

It wasn’t a lie. 

He looked at Bull, finally, and there was an emotion in those gray eyes that made Bull’s chest ache. 

“I figured it was something like that,” Bull said. He rubbed the back of his head. “This is kinda weird for me too,” he admitted. “Under the Qun, we don’t really have...what we’re doing. We have friends, and we have sex, and we don’t really...mix them up. Makes things complicated.”

“Yes. I have noticed that.” Solas shifted from one foot to the other. His feet were bare, as usual, and Bull still didn’t quite get how Solas managed that in the snow. “Perhaps we went into--this--too quickly--” he trailed off, clearly conflicted. 

“Maybe,” Bull nodded. He felt a pang at the thought that Solas would want to stop their relationship, and it surprised him to feel that. “But it looks like I don’t know what I’m doing and you _definitely_ don’t know what you’re doing--”

“Excuse me?” Solas was affronted. 

Bull merely raised his eyebrow. If there was one thing Solas didn't have the best handle on, it was interpersonal relations.

Solas sighed. “I suppose that our experiences are rather unique,” he said. “And thus any kind of relationship will also be unique, presenting unique challenges.”

“It’s this kind of thing that makes the Qun sound more appealing,” Bull said. “It makes it simpler.”

Solas gave him a sharp look. “We would never interact under the Qun. I suppose that does make it simpler. In a manner of speaking.” he folded his arms. The horrors of the Qun seemed less abstract, now that Bull had only just saved himself from its grasp. 

Solas would not allow himself to live under the Qun, even if they did not kill him first for having the audacity to have the gift of magic. But Bull…

One could always justify returning to shackles. Solas had seen it happen before, people returning to the slavery of the Evanuris, friends and allies lost or broken. In their own way, the Evanuris were very like the Qunari, and Solas could imagine all too well what the Qunari would do to those who betrayed them. To think it of it happening to Bull made Solas’ stomach churn. 

“That’s true,” Bull glanced away. 

Saarebas were almost always native-born Qunari, but there was the occasional bas convert. All of them, with the exception of a tiny fraction, were forced conversions, done because the Qun needed something. Solas would either die under the Qun, or if they needed him, they could shatter his mind and leave his power intact.

Bull had seen it done before. If the Qun demanded a mind be broken, the mind would be broken, no matter how strong-willed or proud the owner might be. 

“I know what would happen to just about everyone if the Qunari invaded,” Bull said suddenly. “That’s kind of a Ben-hassrath thing. You’re supposed to think of how to kill everyone you meet, but also what they’d be like converted to the Qun.” 

Solas’ mouth tightened. “I see.”

“The Qun...it’s only healthy for people born under it, or who convert,” Bull said at last. “Not for people who get invaded. So everyone here…”

“They would suffer.”

“Yeah.” 

Bull could see it clearly. It was awful, how possible it felt. Maybe the Qunari wanted to deal with Tevinter first, but the south had caught their eye, with the Breach and everything.  
Most of his friends would end up dead. Some would be alive, but converted. 

And Solas…

Well. Chances were that they’d never make him a saarebas. Too dangerous, too impractical, too...much. 

But perhaps they’d try. 

All of a sudden it struck Bull, all the Saarebas he’d ever seen, chained with power and metal, and it made him feel almost sick. It would never happen, but the thought of his strange, arrogant, brilliant Solas shackled that way--

“Yeah, never mind that,” Bull said quickly. “Sorry.” he rolled his shoulders back. “Anyway, Gatt wanted me to sacrifice the Chargers for the damn dreadnaught, so the Qun probably isn’t the source to go to about relationships.”

That startled a laugh out of Solas, making Bull grin. At last, Solas smiled, a tiny, self-deprecating smirk. “I had thought that it was trust I could not give freely...but it seems simpler than that.”

“You spend too much time playing with spirits, I told you,” Bull nudged his shoulder, and it felt like some kind of tension had broken. “You need to talk with more people in the real world. I can’t be the only one talking to people.”

“I talk to many people.”

“Arguing with Sera and having those...weird conversations with Cole don’t count.”

“No?” Solas blinked. 

“Also, I’m pretty sure it does something to your head to only talk to people who vanish when you’re not looking at them.”

“There is no proof that all people are not like that,” now Solas’ smile was a bit wider, his eyes brighter. “The world, of course, behaves in continuity, but that is no guarantee of its presence.”

“Not really sure what the point is of a world that vanishes if you turn your back on it,” Bull raised his eyebrow.

“Nor am I. But there is no proof that anything exists beyond one’s own perceptions.” 

“Right, if you go too long with those sorts of questions, you end up seriously needing a drink, ‘cause a hangover is better than the headache you get from thinking about that all night.”

"Presumably, a dancer could also cure one’s ailments for a time.” 

Bull laughed. “Yeah, probably.” he reached over and tilted Solas’ chin up. “I can think of a lot of things that can cure headaches, and some other stuff, too.” 

Solas smiled. “Indeed.” 

It was Solas who kissed him first, gingerly, as if he were worried Bull was made of glass. Bull pulled him close, and for a moment, under the light of the moons, all was well. 

It only occured to Bull much later that he was already starting to think of Solas as _his_ Solas.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is about when that warning for graphic violence comes in

When they returned to Skyhold, they split up, as Solas had some work that needed doing and Bull wanted to see what the Chargers had gotten up to while he’d been gone. The Chargers had been busy, mostly training, but their services hadn’t been needed. 

“So, how’d things go with Messere Solas?” Krem asked when he saw him, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re worse than my mother for gossip, you are,” Dalish chastised him. “...but how did it go?” she asked, and all the Chargers leaned in, truly fascinated. None of them knew Solas very well, but they all had a soft spot for gossip, and Krem had doubtless told them all of Solas’ interest.

“Yeah, I don’t really think he’d want me sharing anything,” Bull said with a laugh. “Not any of the good parts, anyway.” 

The Chargers relented, disappointed, but Krem gave Bull a shrewd look. Bull quickly turned the conversation to other matters, before they could ask more. Most of Bull’s partners didn’t much mind if he talked about them, but they weren’t as complicated as Solas was. Dorian had displayed mock-outrage whenever Bull brought up any time they had been together, but he adored being the center of attention, and liked being able to openly talk about his trysts, so all was forgiven. The various one night stands Bull had facilitated weren’t really notable enough to talk about. He gave someone something they needed, everyone had fun, that was it. 

Solas was different. He was such a private person that even showing affection around others was difficult. He went out of his way to avoid attention, and the oddest things would make him withdraw. Bull didn’t want to risk losing him to his own self-imposed isolation again. 

That evening, Solas went and sought Bull out. It was quite late, well after dark, so there were fewer people up and about. 

“Need something?” Bull asked, a little surprised at seeing Solas turn up at his door. 

“I do not have to need something from you to desire to see you,” Solas informed him, and Bull let him in. 

“Figured you wanted a bit of space,” 

Solas nodded. “Yes. And I thank you.” he looked at Bull. “Might I share your bed?”

“Did you want to do something, or is this just a really long way of asking me to cuddle with you?” Bull asked him.

Solas scrunched his nose up. It was cute, and it still struck Bull as strange whenever Solas did anything even remotely resembling _cute_. “I have no desire to do anything more more taxing than sleep this evening,” he said, folding his arms. 

“So the second one.” 

Solas flushed, and Bull just sighed and gestured him closer. “You take a really long time to make up your mind,” he said. “Come on. I was just gonna go to bed anyway.” 

“It required due consideration.”

Bull couldn’t help a smile. “Yeah, I bet it did.” 

They disrobed and got into the bed. This bed had to be much larger than an average one, to support Bull’s weight. He’d have been just fine sleeping on the floor, but Cadash had insisted upon finding him a bed. 

Bull pulled the covers over them both, and looped an arm around Solas. Solas was wound tighter than a bowstring, all hard edges and elbows and anxiety, but after a moment, he loosened up some. 

Solas was not used to being so close to anyone. He rested his forehead on Bull’s shoulder, tried to let himself relax in the circle of Bull’s arms. It was pleasant, and he felt...safe. It was a strange sensation, and logically he knew there wasn’t much of a difference between being next to Bull and being held by him, but all the same, he felt protected by Bull’s presence. 

It was interesting, to feel protected by someone else. Not simply to be defended against enemies in battle, but to be shielded outside of it as well. 

The all-too-familiar guilt rose in his chest again--the guilt about lying to Bull, about taking comfort in him when there were other things to be doing, about daring to have comfort at all. 

Bull felt him tense again, and rubbed his hand soothingly over his shoulders. He was usually adept at giving his partners what they needed, but he had to admit, Solas had a habit of surprising him. 

Right now, though, the simple need for contact was obvious. He held Solas a little closer, and felt the elf slowly relax, his muscles unknotting. He wrapped one arm around Bull’s waist, long fingers curling at the small of Bull’s back. Gradually his breathing evened out, and Bull realized he’d fallen asleep. 

Bull felt a strange pang, all of a sudden, a curious desire to follow Solas to his dreams. He couldn’t, of course, and the magic disturbed him, but the pull was there, nonetheless. Perhaps if he could see what Solas saw in the Fade, he might understand him better. 

Maybe not. Bull gradually dropped off to sleep as well, after a time. 

It was early in the morning, too early for the sun to have risen, when Bull awoke with a start. For a moment he was confused, dreams of fire and blood tumbling in his mind. He breathed, shaking off what had been a rather ordinary nightmare. He hadn’t screamed or thrown things, so all to the good. 

“Are you well?” 

Bull was surprised to hear Solas’ soft voice cut through the silence.

“‘M alright,” Bull murmured, head turned away from Solas. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Solas reached over, tilted Bull’s face towards his. Bull couldn’t see quite as well as an elf could in the dark, so Solas’ face wasn’t very clear, but his eyes caught the slight light that slid in the window from the outside. 

“You were suffering a nightmare.”

Oh, right. Solas knew when people had nightmares. 

Bull managed a shrug. “It’s not like it’s a new thing.”

“I could help, if you wished.”

“How?” the word slipped from Bull’s lips before he could stop it. The claws of the nightmare still dug into him, and it seemed almost as if he were still dreaming. The world felt intangible, dark and misty, and he had to admit to being a bit curious at the possibility.

“I could share your dream,” Solas murmured. “It is possible for me to walk within the dreams of another, if you wish it.” 

There were no nightmares Solas hadn’t seen. Soothing dreams was something he had done many times, for many people. 

Bull frowned. “I don’t really want you wandering around in my head,” he said. 

“You would prefer nightmares?” 

There was no judgement in Solas’ voice. Whatever Bull decided would be fine by him.

“No, but I don’t want magic messing up my dreams,” Bull said. “Seems kinda...weird.” but he was curious. A part of him did want to know what it would be like, to share a dream with another. 

“The world of dreams is made of magic,” there was something wistful in Solas’ tone, and his expression gained a far-off look. “Magic forms the foundation of the world. This age has forgotten that you need not see horrors in dreams. Not when there are wonders to be found instead.” 

Bull smiled. Trust Solas to try to comfort him in the weirdest way possible. 

“That’s okay,” he said, patting Solas’ hand. “Maybe some other time.”

Solas nodded, stroked Bull’s cheek, then closed his eyes, and was almost immediately asleep again. 

The next morning, Bull was a bit surprised to find Solas still in his bed. Solas was almost as surprised as Bull was, if not more. 

So things went, for some time. Solas would find ways to slip into Bull’s room unnoticed, not particularly wanting to invite the attention of gossipers. He would have invited Bull to his own room, but the closest thing was the office he had commandeered. Solas liked to sleep in varied places, and didn’t actually have a single room in Skyhold he called his own (partly because he felt he could call the entire castle ‘his own.’). 

Gossip happened, of course, but Solas went out of his way to ignore it. 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Tiny,” Varric said once, wearing a half-grin, raising his eyebrows.

Solas merely looked at him over the cover of his book. “Indeed.” 

Several more questions were met with noncommittal responses and that was enough to put Varric off. Dorian and even Cassandra likewise tried to question Solas about it, but he brushed them off. 

The only person who understood in detail what had happened was Cole, but Cole knew most of what went on. He was extremely pleased, glad at the fact that both Solas and Bull were happy. 

“I told you,” Cole informed him one early morning, when the two of them were alone. “You can find happiness in your own way.”

Solas smiled, although he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Solas was not even sure what his relationship with Bull entailed, or how long it would last. He certainly was not comfortable discussing it with anyone, except perhaps Cole, and Iron Bull himself.

This did not, of course, dissuade Sera from asking Iron Bull out of the blue one evening “So, does Baldy yell ‘elven glory’ when you’re doin’ it?”

That made Blackwall spit out his drink, Dorian laugh until he choked, and Bull just waited until the shock wore off to answer her question.

“Yeah, I’m not answering that,” he told her at length.

Sera blew a raspberry at him, and Dorian let out an affronted gasp.

“You’re pleased enough to spread details of what _we_ did together!” Dorian exclaimed. 

“Yeah, but you don’t mind as much.”

“I mind a great deal!”

Bull just looked at him, eyebrow raised.

Dorian sighed. “Now, to be fair, the world _should_ know of how marvelous I am at everything, but that’s still a bit much.”

“Can we go back to the part about you and--Solas--?” Blackwall managed. 

“You didn’t know?” Sera drawled, putting her elbows on the table. 

“No, I did not!” 

“How could you not know? He’s been in a much better mood as of late,” Dorian said. “Someone had to have been doing that, Andraste knows he’d never get less unhappy on his own.”

Blackwall ran a hand over her face. “Maker. I don’t need to hear this.”

“But I wanna know!” Sera insisted. “Is it like with Dorian? You know, falling off a tree and all that?”

Dorian and Bull both stared at her.

“What?” Dorian asked.

“You know, ‘too high!’ ‘too fast!’ ‘leaves!’” she giggled.

“...no,” Bull said at last. “There aren’t any leaves involved.” 

“Oh,” Sera seemed disappointed. “Sounds boring.” 

“I didn’t even think he liked men,” Blackwall said. “I actually thought he was a bit sweet on Cassandra, to be honest.”

“Why in the world would you think that?” Dorian asked. “Just because a man is polite to a woman it doesn’t mean he wants her in bed.”

Blackwall shrugged. “He’s not really nice to anyone else but Cole.”

“He just spent a lot of time in the woods,” Bull said with a shrug. “Too much time with just spirits for company. Makes him act a bit weird, but once you get past that, it’s all good.” 

Sera stuck her tongue out. “Weird and elfy.”

“I think he’s actually just...weird,” Bull said. 

Once Sera’s curiosity was sated, she no longer pestered Bull for information. Dorian continued to think the whole affair was hilarious, and Blackwall remained baffled.

Vivienne strongly disapproved, but she had too much dignity to respond to rumors, so she simply had to quietly radiate her disapproval.

Bull was careful not to push Solas. He’d never had to use quite this level of patience when partnering with someone before, but he found it was worthwhile. There was something about staying with only one person that was...fulfilling, in a way he’d never had under the Qun.

He’d been thinking a lot about the Qun lately, more than usual. He and Solas had spoken about it plenty, but there was something about being with Solas that made him consider it more now.

He couldn’t help but remember, every time he looked at Solas asleep in his bed, that the Qun would want him killed or made Saarebas. Par Vollen would be a trap for him, surely as Tevinter would be. 

He didn’t know why he kept thinking about it. He never had before. 

Likewise, Solas was made to consider things that he never had before. 

There was not enough time in this world. Things moved far too fast for Solas’ liking. In Elvhenan, conflicts had taken hundreds of years to plan and resolve--battles could take weeks, even months to finish. 

So it came far, far too quickly that he looked at the Iron Bull and thought ‘ _vhenan_.’

They lay in the early morning light, and Solas had woken before Bull in a rare instance. He glanced over and saw the gentle golden sunlight touch Bull’s face, making him look almost as if he glowed from within. His eyepatch was not on his face, exposing the scarring in his empty eye socket. Motes of dust were caught in a sunbeam just over his forehead, and he breathed deeply, soundly asleep. 

He was peaceful in sleep. The Fade around him was calm, so the dream must be a pleasant one. Solas hesitated, then reached out and brushed his brow with one delicate hand. His skin was warm, touched by sunlight as it was, and Solas found himself smiling ever so slightly, watching the other man’s face.

Not many people would describe the Iron Bull as ‘beautiful,’ but he was. It seemed that the sunlight only existed to show the light that doubtless shone inside him. All people were beings of light at their hearts, for all that this world had tried to crush and conquer it.

Bull’s eye slowly slid open. He smiled to see Solas, and took his hand.

“Alright there?” he murmured, voice hazy with sleep.

“Quite well,” Solas pressed a kiss to his brow. 

“Someone’s in a good mood.” Bull returned the kiss by giving Solas’ arse a squeeze, making Solas jump. 

“Not quite that good a mood, Bull,” Solas admonished.

Bull laughed. “Positive? We have some time, and I figured you put all those silencing spells up for a reason…”

Solas had, in fact, placed several protective and silencing runes on the walls of Bull’s room. It wasn’t strictly for what Bull suggested, however. It simply made him feel more at ease to have some form of protection around a sleeping area, which Bull understood.

Solas scrunched his nose up. “It is far too early,” he said. “In any case, I believe Cadash wishes us to come to the Emprise with her,” he raised his eyebrows.

“You really like hotsprings, huh?”

“Very much,” at this, Solas slid his hand down along Bull’s side, sliding over his hip. “I believe we had both been quite interested in going there.”

Emprise du Lion was cold, bone-chillingly so, far at odds with the warmth of the lowland forests or the heat of the deserts. The Inquisition had set up camp here already, to defend the small village that stood in the shadow of Suledin Keep. Now Cadash came here to drive the Templars away entirely. 

Cadash, Sera, Solas and Iron Bull fought their way up the mountainside, battling through Templars to get to the Keep. It was grueling work, made more difficult by the hazards of snow and ice. There was a demon at the center of the Keep, an impish thing who’d taken the shape of a blond man, and was quite difficult to get rid of.

He whispered things in all their ears, desires and choices, but in the end he was defeated.

“Demons,” Bull shuddered, looking at the gleaming ashes which were all that remained of Imshael. “Creepy.”

Solas shrugged, unperturbed. “They cannot have more power over you than what you give to them,” he said. “You need not trust them to listen to them.”

They claimed the Keep, and finally, the Templars were cornered. The last remaining Templars holed up in the mines, where they also kept several villagers captive. The mines were a different matter than the Keep, a labyrinthine maze of rock and red lyrium, not able to be easily stormed by Inquisition soldiers. There were also rifts nearby that the Templars hid behind, keeping demons and stray spirits aimed away from them and towards any who might come close. 

Cadash and her companions would have to go by themselves, while the Inquisition forces could only wait to offer support. 

So after a short rest, they set off towards the mines.

Templars were vicious creatures, even moreso when cornered and fighting magic. These Red Templars were so close to the stocks of red lyrium that it had begun to leech into their very minds, leaving them good for little else except fighting. The Templars spotted Solas’ magic and the mark on Cadash’s hand and began to target the two of them, almost to the exclusion of Sera and Iron Bull. 

They fought through the tunnels and corridors of the mines, freeing peasantry as they went. 

“This stuff is disgusting,” Cadash growled, kicking over a fallen Templar who had red lyrium growing under his armor. “I can’t believe they drink it--or do--whatever it is they do with lyrium.” she shuddered, swinging her ax over one shoulder. 

Solas said nothing, but couldn’t help his own revulsion. He agreed with her. The red lyrium was disgusting, diseased, and to so much as touch it made one’s skin start to crawl.

“Come on,” Bull urged. “We just have to get the rest of them.”

At this point, only the center of the mine was left, where all the Templars had retreated to. They went forward cautiously, Bull and Cadash at the front of the group, Sera and Solas at the back. 

At first, the Bull and Cadash caught the brunt of the Templars. However they couldn’t get all of them, and several Templars began to advance on Sera and Solas. 

Sera fired as many arrows as she could, and Solas concentrated on barriers for all four of them, keeping as far away as was possible. 

Then a Templar brought a blade down on Solas’ barrier. Solas’ attention cracked for just a moment, the barrier flickering--and a Templar arrow slammed right into his abdomen. He choked, the air going out of him all at once, his focus dissolving into a burst of pain. He collapsed to one knee.

“ _Solas_!” Bull exclaimed, seeing him go down. 

Blood trickled between Solas’ fingers as he tried to stop the bleeding. The pain made all his spells scatter and everything was going dark at the edges. His thoughts kept evaporating into a strange, vague sense of surprise. It had been some time since he’d gotten caught by something so...physical.

Another arrow barely glanced off a weak barrier he managed to put up just in time. He lanced the Templar in front of him with raw power, pushing her back, but to make defensive spells was to take away from the healing spell he desperately needed.

Bull charged over from the opposite side of the battlefield, ignoring Cadash’s surprised exclamation. 

Another Templar approached Solas, sword in hand. Bull slammed into the Templar, knocking him into one side.

The Templar’s swing brought his sword up and caught Bull right across the chest, slicing into him with a vicious swipe. 

Bull blinked, feeling almost surprised. Even so, he raised his ax and brought it down, biting deeply into the Templar’s shoulder. 

Solas pressed hard on his wound, trying desperately not to dislodge the arrowhead. The blood felt hot on his side, and everything was hazy as he tried to concentrate.   
Bull took down the Templar and was at Solas’ side in an instant. 

“Bull--” Solas croaked, then gritted his teeth at the pain talking caused. 

“Don’t move,” Bull advised, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Solas eyed the cut on Bull’s chest, still bleeding heavily and looking quite deep. “This is not the time to stop,” he said, eyeing the remaining Templars that Cadash and Sera were trying to deal with. 

“Solas--”

Before Solas had time to put a barrier up, another Templar arrow slammed into Bull’s back, and Bull let out a shout of pain.

“ _Bull--vhenan_ ,” Solas could not help the horror that laced his voice, and he took his hand away from his wound to put it on Bull’s shoulder. “ _Nae, vhenan, no--_ ”

Bull couldn’t see anything properly, pain making everything foggy. He felt the arrowhead had bitten deep into bone, and he fell forward, his entire back on fire. In spite of the cloudy vision, he could see a blazing light, and realized with some trepidation that Solas had struggled to his feet. 

There was a terrible booming noise, almost like a dreadnought cannon, then everything was quiet for a moment, before Bull fell into blissful unconsciousness.

When Bull woke up, he was staring at the canvas ceiling of a tent. It was pain that woke him, a dull ache in his chest, and the muscles of his back feeling like he’d rolled on a bed of broken glass. 

Well, it could be worse. He could feel his toes and both hands, and see out of his eye, so everything seemed to be in mostly the right place. 

“I see you are awake.”

Bull looked over to see Solas sitting by his bedside, looking absolutely terrible. He was so pale that his freckles stood out in stark relief, and his eyes were red from exhaustion. His shoulders were slumped. He wore only a loose robe and leggings, and there was bandaging over his abdomen, but Bull couldn’t see it too clearly.

“Solas--” Bull tried to sit up, recalling with a start the arrow that had pierced him, but lay back down again immediately, pain lancing through his back. 

“Don’t,” Solas advised, putting a hand on his shoulder and forcing him down with a surprising amount of strength. “Your wounds are rather considerable.”

“It’s not like I’m the only one,” Bull gritted, trying to see the wound that Solas had sustained from the arrow. 

“I am fine.” Solas’ voice was almost dangerously calm, and the calmness actually made Bull more worried. “You are the one who has the more serious injuries.”

“You took an arrow to the gut.”

“I have suffered such wounds before. I am also the one with healing magic,” there was a slight admonishment in Solas’ voice. “Unlike other parties.”

“Yeah, but you’re not exactly a surgeon,” Bull again tried to crane his neck to get a better look at the wound on Solas’ middle. Solas, noting his gaze, pulled his robe closed so Bull couldn’t see the injury. Bull scowled. 

“What happened?” Bull asked. “How’re Cadash and Sera?”

“They are fine. The battle was won.”

“Are they alright?”

“Yes. Neither of them sustained any injuries.” he was quiet for a moment, before he spoke again. “You need not have put yourself in such danger,” Solas’ expression was a mask of mildly disapproving calm, but Bull noticed with some concern that his hands shook. 

Bull tried to shrug, but winced when it pulled viciously at the wounded muscles in his back. “That’s my job--get between everyone else and swords.”

“That does not mean you must throw yourself upon a sword.” Solas reached towards him with hands that glowed with healing magic, and the pain in his back eased.

“That wasn’t exactly on purpose,” Bull reminded him. 

“Hm.” Solas looked away, concentrating on the wound. Bull reached over, despite the pain it caused, and pushed his hand away. 

“You should save that magic for yourself,” Bull told him. “The only thing worse than an arrow to the gut is a sword to the gut. Should you even be walking around?”

“I am fine.”

Bull reached out and took Solas’ wrist. Solas yanked away, then grimaced, pressing a hand to his middle. 

“You took an arrow to the stomach. You are not fine.”

“I am better off than you,” Solas pointed out, a line between his brows creasing. “Healing spells are quite useful in that regard.” 

“Solas, it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve gotten hurt in a fight,” Bull reminded him, then winced. “I mean, it’s been a while since I hurt so much, but...you know.”

“You need not put yourself in such harm’s way just for me,” Solas informed him. 

“That’s kind of what I’m here for.”

“No, it is not.” Solas’ mouth was tight, his brows drawn together, and he avoided Bull’s eyes. 

“Let me see,” Bull said, finally managing to sit up. 

“Bull--” Solas tried to push him back down again, but Bull wasn’t having it. 

“At least let me see so I know you’re not going to bleed out and die on me,” Bull said. 

Solas scowled. “Ma nuvenin,” he said, and opened his robe, letting Bull get a clear look at the bandaging. The wound was covered by gauze, but it needed to be changed, blood having seeped through. 

Mages would be the death of him, Bull was convinced. No armor and only a magical barrier to keep weapons at bay--seeing the wound on Solas was enough to make Bull’s muscles tense with anxiety. 

“They got the arrow out, right?”

“Of course. And out of you, as well.” 

“...when? How long has it been?”

“Two days.” 

Bull raised his eyebrow. Only two days? “And the reason you’re walking around is because…?”

“I wish to,” Solas set his jaw and tilted his chin up, eyes gleaming with stubborn pride. “And I would ensure that your wounds healed.”

“So, yeah, should I call for a healer to wrestle you to the ground or something…?” 

“I am well aware of my own limits,” Solas informed him. 

“So, you gave the healer the slip, then.”

“Bull.”

“Or fought her, I don’t know,” Bull sighed. “What will it take to get you to stop walking around and using your magic on me?” 

“Perhaps if you decide to stop putting yourself in danger just for me.”

Something about the way what was phrased was unnerving.

“If I hadn’t gotten in the way, you could have died,” Bull told him. It was true, painfully true, and Bull could so easily see the way the slight elf could have fallen under the blade of   
a Templar.

“Perhaps. That is not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” Bull snapped, exhaustion and worry making anger rise in his chest. “We both got hurt, but we’re both fine, now.”

“The _point_ ,” Solas punctuated his words with a snapping of teeth and sudden anger in his eyes. “Is that you should not put yourself in danger only for me. The point is that I am capable of handling enemies myself.” he drew himself up, and suddenly Bull had the strangest impression that he was much, much taller than he actually was. “I do not want anyone else to die on my behalf, Bull! That is the point!” Solas snapped, then he froze. Bull looked at him.

“Anyone else?” 

Solas shook his head. “Cadash will want to see you,” he said, and got to his feet. He walked out of the tent, limping slightly. 

Cadash came in a moment later, looking none the worse for wear.

“Saw Solas storming out of here, so I figured you were up,” Cadash said with a shrug. “How’re you doing?”

“I feel kind of like I got stampeded by a horse, but, hey, that’s normal,” Bull shrugged, mind still on Solas’ abrupt exit. “Solas alright? He wouldn’t tell me.”

“He’s just pissed off. He’ll be fine. Yelled at the healers so much they left him alone when he stopped bleeding everywhere.” Cadash looked at him. “What about you? Healers said you’d be okay, and Solas has been in and out of here all day--”

“Told you, I’m fine,” Bull said, then grimaced as more pain sluggishly radiated out from his arrow wound. “Look, I have all my arms and legs, and still have an eye. I’ll be alright.”   
Cadash laughed. “I figured. With the way Solas’d been fussing at you, you’d think you got cut in half and he was responsible for sewing you back together.”

Bull sighed. “Right.”

“You didn’t see him when you went down,” Cadash said. “He was pissed. Probably about as pissed as with those mages who did that thing with his spirit friend.” she rubbed the back of her head. “He kind of... _obliterated_ the Templars.”

“What?” 

“You went down, he freaked out, next thing I know, there’s a huge damn explosion and the Templars are all dead.” she shrugged. ‘He passed out right after, and he won’t tell me what he did. But yeah, he was...not happy.”

“Hm,” Bull rumbled, frowning. “Didn’t mention that to me.”

“Why, you two too busy sucking each other’s faces?” Cadash said with a grin. 

“Nah. That would have been better, honestly.” Bull glanced over to the entrance again.

She winced in sympathy. “Lover’s quarrel, then?”

“Boss...seriously. You can get your gossip fix when I don’t have a hole in my back.”

“Ah, well, you’ll be up and around and you guys can do whatever it is you do,” Cadash waved a hand. “Sera’d have a field day with it if he didn’t glare at her every time she brought it up.”

“That so? Usually she doesn’t care when he does that.”

“Ah, well…” Cadash rubbed the back of her head. “We’ve all been a little worried. You didn’t see it, Bull--there was blood everywhere, and the both of you out cold, and just--whatever he did left scorchmarks in almost a hundred yards in all directions. I guess any mage could do it, but...you know.” 

“Well, tell her I’m fine,” Bull said. “I’d tell her myself, but this bed is really comfortable.”  
Cadash laughed, and moved to clap him on the back, but stopped in the middle. “Dammit,” she said, still grinning. “Don’t wanna hit that wound--that shit hurts.”

“Hey, I appreciate the effort,” Bull said, spirits lifted somewhat.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wherever there's dumbass warriors getting themselves shot or speared or whatever, there are pissed off healers 
> 
> secretly (or not so secretly) iron bull is incredibly turned up by displays of extreme power

Solas was intercepted by the Inquisition healer on his way back to his own tent. 

“Oh, lady bless,” she growled when she spotted him. She grabbed his arm. “Don’t think you can get out of this, Ser Solas--”

He tried to shake her off, but to his chagrin, even slight movement sent shocks of pain through his middle.

“Now that Ser Iron Bull is awake, you don’t have any excuses,” she informed him, and dragged him off to the healer’s tent. “Mages,” she grumbled. “You should know better than to try and heal yourself and someone else at the same time.”

He scowled at her, but she was not perturbed. She sat him down and removed the bloodied bandages. Apparently all his moving around had caused the suture in his wound to reopen, making it bleed sluggishly again. 

“Ridiculous,” the healer growled to herself as she re-did the stitches, in spite of Solas’ protests that he could do it himself. “I don’t care how much in love you are, that still doesn’t excuse addlepated behavior.”

“Excuse me?” he raised his eyebrows at her last words.

“I _said_ , you can’t go all goose-girl on your lover and pull the wound like this,” she shook her head. “Honestly, I’d think you’d know better.” 

“I am _not_ \--”

“Oh, spare me--if I don’t take lovestruck fool from my own sister I certainly won’t take it from you,” she finished with the stitching, then set about bandaging the wound. “I can only hope Ser Iron Bull isn’t as moony-eyed as you, else we’ll have two fools to deal with instead of just one.”

Solas flushed, and was caught between being amused and extremely offended. He chose offended. “I was not aware my business, or Iron Bull’s, was that of the entire world,” he snapped. 

“It’s not as if I had to listen at keyholes, Ser Solas,” she informed him icily. “The way you hovered over him, anyone could tell. There,” she finished the bandages. “Now if you’ll go lie down properly and not move around, that will get around to healing. And _don’t_ try to heal it yourself,” she snapped, grabbing his wrist when she spotted the telltale flare of healing magic about his fingertips. “Honestly. You’ll end up falling on your nose and doing more harm than good.”

She gave him a basket of potions and strict instructions to get some sleep, and sent him on his way with some additional threats. 

Solas finally retreated to his own tent. Gingerly, he touched his wounded middle. An arrow--he should have kept a better barrier up. Without armor, he was more vulnerable to physical attack, and he shouldn’t have forgotten that. The wound still ached, even with repeated healing. 

Never mind, of course, that his healing skills weren’t nearly as powerful or practiced as they once had been. He once would have been able to repair himself and Iron Bull in a matter of minutes. Now, it seemed he still needed more time recovering from Uthenera before the healing spells were able to be effective again.

He didn’t want to think of how much pain Bull must have been in--must still be in. Sword-wound and an arrow strike...Solas had had friends die of lesser things before. Bull was just lucky the blade wasn’t poisoned.

He’d been absolutely panicked following the battle. The spell he’d cast to end the fight had drained him almost completely, and that, combined with the arrow, had put him into shock immediately. Even so, he’d awoken when the group got back to the Inquisition camp, and had insisted on helping the healers with Bull. 

Bull had lost more blood than Solas, bleeding from two wounds instead of just one, and kept fading in and out of consciousness. Solas forced himself to stay awake, to do the bare minimum for himself, to try and help Bull as much as possible. He didn’t recall very much of the last two days, lost in a haze of pain and magic.

In his chest there was a swirl of conflicting emotion. Everything inside of him felt topsy-turvey and inside out, and though he wanted to blame that on the arrow wound, he knew there were other reasons. 

Bull should never have put himself in danger for Solas’ mistake. Solas should never have made a mistake in the first place, and he was angry that he was so weak a few human Templars couldn’t be dealt with easily. Furthermore, Bull should have just let Solas deal with it. Solas was entirely capable of fighting without someone coming in to rescue him. 

He was also glad of it. He liked being able to rely on someone, and that feeling just made him feel worse. He shouldn’t burden these people with his problems, least of all Iron Bull. They did not deserve it, Bull especially. 

He yanked the blankets of his bedroll over himself, and resolved to sleep. Sleep helped wounds to heal, after all, and perhaps he could meet a spirit who could make some sense of his emotions. 

The next few days passed in a haze for Bull. A mixture of pain and healing potions blurred his perceptions, which was honestly a good thing in these circumstances.

Solas hadn’t come to see Bull again, which Bull could only hope meant he was taking his healing seriously. However, he couldn’t help but feel a bit lonesome after having Solas so close to him most of the time. 

On the other hand, having someone hovering around while one was trying to recover from wounds wasn’t always the most helpful thing. Solas was also the sort who frequently needed space, and if he needed it now, Bull wouldn’t begrudge him that in the slightest.

He still couldn’t help the strange mix of anger and worry that bubbled up inside him at this new turn of events. 

After a fourth day passed, however, and Solas still had not returned to see him, Bull couldn’t help but wonder if the elf was avoiding him. 

Bull wasn’t sure why that might be, whether he was angry, if his wound had been more serious than he had claimed and he was simply staying in bed, or if there was some mix of the two. 

When he asked the resident healer after him, she made a face.

“Well, he’s staying put like I told him,” she said. “Honestly, Ser Iron Bull, I tried dosing him with elfroot but he wouldn’t take any till he knew you were going to be alright. Then he didn’t take nearly enough, kept bleeding all over everything while I tried to patch the both of you up--” she shook her head. 

“Bad patient, huh?” Bull grimaced in sympathy. He’d heard enough stories from Stitches and other healers about terrible patients. 

“An arrow in the belly and spell backlash and he _still_ wanted to be up and around and trying to heal you all himself,” she tutted. “Idiot. At least I could give you elfroot and you’d stay down. He’s paying for it now.”

“You’re looking after him, right?” Bull asked. “I would, but I’m kinda stuck here.”

“And you’re going to stay there until I say so,” she growled. “Yes, of course I am. Honestly…”

Bull raised his hands. “Hey, just making sure.”

She rolled her eyes. “You aren’t as much a goosegirl as he is, but you’re getting there,” she informed him. “You’d think you were both lovers from a Tethras novel.”

Bull laughed. “Did you tell Solas that?” he could well imagine the face Solas might make at such a comparison.

“I did.” the healer shook her head. “He’ll be fine, no doubt there,” she said. “Whether that lovestruck head of his will be fine is a different story.”

That was certainly an understatement.

Bull was worried about Solas, for a number of reasons. 

The way Cadash had spoken of the magic Solas had done unnerved him, and the more he thought about it, the more concerned he got.

So when he was well enough that he could walk with little pain, he didn’t go to find Solas first thing. He wasn’t exactly wary of Solas, but he wanted to see the damage that the magic had done. 

He made the trip back to the mines, to see the battlefield. They weren’t very far away, so it wasn’t exactly a grueling journey.

The mines had been cleared out, and ever since the battle, no one had gone near them again, not even the townsfolk. 

Bull walked through the mine, seeing the empty spaces where the red lyrium had been removed. There were scorchmarks and splintered arrows scattered about, but fortunately all the bodies had also been taken away. 

At the center of the mine was a wasteland. 

The mining equipment and shelters were leveled, flattened as if by a giant hand. The snow and dirt were all gone, everything burned away down to the bedrock. Any stones that were less than boulders had been flung far away, to land like shrapnel at the end of the blast radius. It looked like a saar-qamek bomb had hit the place, a big one. There were stains of dried blood on the rocks, whether the Templars’, or Solas’, or his own, Bull had no idea.

Bull stared at it, stunned. Cadash’s description hadn’t done it any kind of justice. This was the sort of thing they told young Qunari about to scare them away from magic. It was like the kind of nightmare scenario that brought the Templars out en masse.

He knew magic was capable of such things. He just wasn’t used to seeing it, even after all this time. And he especially didn’t like seeing it from someone he was close to.

“Why are you here?” 

Bull turned round to see that Solas had come up behind him. He hadn’t even heard him, which just went to show how off his game Bull was.

Bull shrugged. “Wanted to see it.”

“Why?” 

“Cadash made it sound like a big deal, honestly.”

Solas looked down at the scorched rock. “Perhaps she would think so.” his expression was carefully blank, again. 

“What about you?” Bull asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you might come here.”

“You got pretty pissed, huh,” Bull nodded at the battleground. 

“Yes.” Solas avoided his eyes. “It was not intentional. Normally my control is much better than that.”

“Got us out of a bad fight, so, it’s okay,” Bull shrugged. He glanced at Solas, and couldn’t help the pang of unease at the thought of all that magic wrapped up in one person. When things were useful, he shouldn’t worry, but at the same time, all he’d heard all his life was how dangerous magic was. 

Solas leaned down to touch the bedrock. “I didn’t mean to burn everything,” he said softly, almost more to himself. “It was only the first thing I thought to do.” 

He didn’t want to look at Bull. He didn’t know what Bull would think, and he hated feeling so uncertain. This world had tried to crush magic as best it could, out of fear, and to see that fear reflected in Bull’s eyes--

In the face of one he’d call vhenan--

He really didn’t know what would happen next. 

He was quite surprised when Bull tilted his chin up and looked at him. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen magic like that on my side before,” he said, concern mixed with something like awe. 

Solas looked away from him, his gaze not meeting Bull’s. “It was unintentional,” he said again.

“Yeah. You said.”

Some tension hung in the air between them, as fragile as glass.

Solas finally looked him in the eyes, his gaze burning with a brilliant intensity. “It will never go away,” he cautioned. “Magic cannot be made separate from me.” 

There was a danger in that voice, something implicit Bull could not place. Something terrifying and magnificent. A will made of steel shone in those gray eyes. 

Then the moment passed, and Solas’ expression gentled, and he seemed more himself again.

“I couldn’t ask that, kadan,” Bull said at last. “Never.” 

Solas startled at the word _kadan_. He blinked at him, genuinely surprised. “Mas serannas, vhenan,” he said softly. “I should not have expected anything else.”

“You said someone had died for you before,” Bull said. “Who?”

“An old friend,” one of many. Solas gingerly reached up to touch Bull’s wrist, half-afraid he would flinch or turn away. He did neither. “I would have no one else share that fate.”

“Doesn’t look like I’m very dead, does it?”

“No. But I do not want--” Solas faltered. His chest hurt. “You should not die only for me.”

To die for Solas was not ‘only’ anything at all. Never that. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not planning on dying anytime soon, kadan,” 

Solas curled his fingers around Bull’s wrist. “We cannot plan for such eventualities, vhenan.” 

“How about you stop getting in the way of arrows, and we’ll call it even?”

Solas cracked a smile for the first time in what felt like ages. “I shall endeavor to do that,” he said. “It is not what I would call the most pleasant of experiences.” 

Bull pulled Solas close, drawing him into a deep kiss. 

“What do you say we finish getting fixed up, then head to those hotsprings?” Bull suggested when they parted. A narrow brush with death earned some idle time. 

Solas smiled. 

The Pools of the Sun steamed in the evening air, hot and welcoming. The pools were avoided by the locals, due to the dragons and red Templars that had taken up residence, but Cadash had fixed all that. 

“Nice spot,” Cadash said, giving them a knowing wink. She and Sera were going to go on ahead, to one of the old abandoned amphitheaters, Sera expressing more interest in the dragon bones to be found there. 

Solas and Bull were left alone, to pitch their tent and partake of the hotspring. 

The water was a welcome relief to almost-healed injuries, soothing and relaxing. For a long while the both of them simply enjoyed the hot water. Hot water was quite hard to come by on the road, unless one were a mage, and then you needed a whole tub and enough time to fill it. Hotsprings were much more convenient. 

Bull noticed something peculiar as he eyed the spot where the arrow had struck Solas’ torso.

“Hey--that arrow isn’t going to leave a mark,” Bull said, nodding at the pale spot which was the only indication that a wound had ever happened. “Why not?”

“Oh--the wound had no poison or enchantment in it,” Solas explained, gingerly touching the healing injury. “Once the arrowhead was removed, I could heal it cleanly.”

“So it leaves a scar if the weapon is poisoned?”

“At times.” 

Solas looked away, frowning, and Bull dropped the subject. The scars were an unpleasant topic, albeit one Bull was desperately curious about. He’d debated to himself over and over what they could be from, but Solas never wanted to talk about them. 

The scars were just one thing that made Bull incredibly doubtful of Solas’ story that he had mostly been isolated from other people. Some were due to weapons, or spellwork, and almost all of them would have been inflicted in a fight. What fight, Solas would never explain. 

Then it was that Solas got a light in his eye that made Bull very, very curious.

Solas crossed the pool and positioned himself right on Bull’s lap. 

“I want you, ma vhenan,” Solas murmured, his hands tight on Bull’s shoulders. “We should try something _new_.”

Bull raised his eyebrow. “What were you thinking?” he rumbled, putting a hand on Solas’ hip. 

Solas wasn’t thinking. Not very deeply. He wanted to be close to Bull, wanted to feel him being _alive_ \-- 

“I want you inside me,” he said, flushing a very bright red but not at all ashamed. “We have never tried that before.” 

Bull laughed. “You’re like a racehorse that hibernates,” he said. “Nothing for a long time, then everything all at once.” he pulled Solas closer. “I think we can do that,” he murmured in Solas’ ear. 

Solas smirked, and reached down, slowly stroking Bull’s cock in an exploratory, hesitant manner that was at odds with his confident expression.

Bull’s breath hitched slightly, and he moved his hand down far enough that he could grab hold of Solas’ ass. 

“Let’s take this out of the water,” Bull suggested. “Dying of a sex-related freak accident would be hilarious if one of us slipped and fell, but--”

“I maintain that it is not hilarious at all,” Solas informed him frostily. “But you are correct.” 

Bull got out of the pool. When Solas made to haul himself out, Bull lent him a hand. Once Solas had a sturdy footing on the ground again, Bull scooped him up, bridal-style. It wasn’t difficult--for all that Solas was fairly tall for an elf, he was still thin and light.

“Bull!” Solas exclaimed in surprise. 

Bull pressed a kiss to Solas’ jaw. “You weren’t going fast enough.”

Solas snorted. “You are fortunate that shows of strength are so pleasing to me,” his words were admonishing, but he put his arms around Bull’s neck and returned Bull’s kiss with one of his own. 

They retreated to the tent. Bull set Solas down on a nearby fur, then went searching in his pack for the item he kept in case of this exact scenario. He came up with a bottle of oil, then sat down in front of Solas.

“We’ll need to go slow,” Bull reminded him. “You sure about this?”

“I would have said if I were not.” 

Bull smiled, shook his head. “Yeah, I bet you would. You have your watchword, too?” they hadn’t been doing anything that particularly needed a watchword, and Solas didn’t think this would require one, but it made Bull feel better to have it, so Solas nodded.

“I do.”

“Which is more comfortable, on your back or all fours?”

“Back,” Solas grabbed a pillow and put it under his shoulders. He had to admit, the idea of being on all fours had its appeal (and the more he considered it, the more appeal it had), but it wouldn’t be very comfortable for a first time. “Unless there is another way you wish…?” 

“Nah, that’s perfect.” Bull knelt down between Solas’ knees, pushing them slightly further apart.

Solas had scars on the inside of his thighs, and Bull paused when he saw them. There was one long knife swipe downwards on the left one, and a slight burn scar, as if from a stray spell, on the right. Solas saw where Bull’s gaze was drawn, and his face went masklike. He tried to draw his knees together, but Bull put a hand on one leg. 

“You know I won’t ask if you don’t want to talk about it,” he said quietly. “I won’t go anywhere you don’t want to.” 

Solas slowly relaxed. “Of course,” he nodded. He smiled, suddenly, and he reached forward and touched Bull’s face. “I should have remembered.” 

There was a story there, somewhere. But now wasn’t the time to ask about it.

Solas lay back, let his knees fall to the side. Bull poured the oil over his hand, using more than half the bottle. Too much wasn’t quite enough in this case, or so he felt. 

“Tell me if I do something you don’t want,” Bull reminded him, circling Solas’ entrance with one finger. 

“Of course.”

Bull slid his finger inside, and Solas tilted his head all the way back, grabbing at the sheets with both hands. The stretch of it was new, more pain than pleasure, but even so, he was determined. 

“Easy,” Bull rubbed his free hand over Solas’ hip. “You doin’ alright?”

Solas nodded jerkily, speech evidently too difficult at the moment. “...perfectly well,” he gasped eventually. He forced himself to relax, and his nerves felt raw and sparking, even though they’d only just started. Sweat dripped down his neck, into the dip of his collarbone. 

He hissed at the stretch as Bull pushed his finger forward, deeper inside. He was achingly slow, something that Solas couldn’t decide was good or bad. 

Finally, Bull was sunk deep enough that he couldn’t go any further. He began to pump his finger in and out, drawing long noises from Solas, making his toes curl. 

It wasn’t quite painful anymore, but the feeling was on a strange border between pain and pleasure. Solas found himself grabbing the blanket underneath him whenever Bull hit a particularly sensitive spot. 

The vulnerability of it was exhilarating. The feeling of doing something so new was dizzying, and almost as much anxiety as pleasure curled in Solas’ belly, making the world run red at the edges. He already felt close to coming, his cock hard and leaking precum, but he wasn’t about to finish anytime soon.

“Talk to me,” Bull said, reaching out and stroking Solas’ cheek with one hand. “Tell me what you want.” 

Solas opened his mouth, and for a moment all that came out was broken Elvhen. He took several deep breaths, and finally got a hold of himself. 

“More, Bull, _please_ \--” 

Bull smiled, and thrust a second finger in, and Solas made an aborted sound that was almost a word, language abandoning him entirely in that moment. He gasped, chest heaving, and he clenched his hands so tightly that his knuckles went white. 

Bull leaned over, cradled Solas’ head in his free hand. Solas’ skin was hot and slick with sweat, his flush reaching all the way down his shoulders. “Still alright?”

Solas nodded, unable to speak.

“Relax more,” Bull instructed him, and Solas did his best to do just that. His knees fell open, putting him on perfect display.

“Good boy,” Bull murmured in Solas’ ear, and Solas made an affronted sound at the back of his throat. A flush crept up his neck, his cheeks almost glowing. Bull smirked and twisted his fingers inside Solas, making him writhe. “Like that, huh?”

Solas turned his face to the pillow, murmuring something in Elvhen. 

“Easy,” Bull ran a soothing hand over Solas’ knee. He was beautiful like this, open and raw. “You’re doing great.” 

Everything felt red, red and full of fire, the world sharp and solid as it hardly ever was, the fog and shadows banished to the corners. Words rose sluggishly to Solas’ mind, his thoughts bursting like soap bubbles almost as soon as they formed. 

He wished Bull would call him _good_ again--

“Bull--yes--please--more--”

“Good to hear.” 

“ _Insufferable_ \--”

Bull laughed. “So I’ve heard.” 

He added a third finger, and Solas swore extravagantly in Elvhen, the feel of it sudden and almost too much. 

“You still doing okay?” Bull asked.

Solas nodded. “Yes--oh, yes, Bull-- _vhenan_ \--”

Bull summoned more of that patience, a store he’d never thought was so deep until he’d started this with Solas. Slow was the key word here, slow and careful and gentle. 

He didn’t want to go slow, not with Solas spread out before him, every scar and freckle there for Bull to see. He wanted to fuck Solas until the elf couldn’t walk straight, fuck him so hard he’d be feeling it for weeks, but he couldn’t go that fast, not right now. 

Once Solas was loose enough, Bull pulled his fingers out of him, leaving Solas gasping at the sudden emptiness of it. That wouldn’t last long, however, when Bull positioned himself between Solas’ legs. 

Solas eyed Bull’s cock, erect and not a little intimidating, and he pulled Bull closer, wrapping his arms around Bull’s neck.

“Tell me what you want,” Bull rumbled, and Solas gritted his teeth, even now his wants trapped behind his teeth.

“I want you, vhenan,” he said, and his voice was low and grated with lust, and he could feel the selfishness of it infecting his mind, but he didn’t care, he didn’t want to care--

“How do you want me?”

Bull was going to be the death of him. 

“I want you inside me,” Solas’ voice cracked, and he looked into Bull’s eye, blazing with inner fire. 

Bull ran a thumb across Solas’ lips. “Of course,”

Bull thrust in, and Solas threw his head back, baring his throat, more Elvhen spilling from between his lips. 

“That’s it,” Bull soothed. “Perfect. You’re doing so good--”

Solas made a distinctly needy noise, pressing his forehead against Bull’s shoulder. Bull’s words dissolved into a haze, but the meaning of the words was clear, and the praise felt obscene in the best kind of way. 

Solas’ skin was hot, as if he carried dragon blood within him as well, and Bull took Solas’ lips in a fierce kiss.

Finally, Bull was buried to the hilt within Solas, and the sensation was both completely foreign and entirely welcome, making it feel as if lightning raced up Solas’ spine. 

“You’re amazing, kadan,” Bull murmured. “You feel amazing.”

Solas managed to summon some presence of mind to say “Pleased to accommodate,” he smiled at Bull, who snorted. 

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he murmured in Solas’ ear.

Bull began to move, and Solas made a tiny broken noise as if a word could be cracked between his teeth. 

“ _Bull_ \--” all Solas could manage was Bull’s name, reverberating in his mind over and over again, all else lost to heat and pleasure. He felt himself drowning in a tide, molten magma in his bones, the world reduced to the singular point of Bull’s body.

Bull thrust in and out, slowly, slowly, taking as much time as he could. Solas was so hot inside, tight even with preparation. It always astonished Bull how new Solas was to sex, how he’d chosen Bull of all people to introduce him to it. 

It made a strange feeling swell in Bull’s chest, a sense of warmth and pride, a strange combination he hadn’t felt before but he hoped it would stay.

Bull murmured half-coherent praise in Solas’ ear, words that stumbled over each other as they tripped out of Bull’s mouth. _Beautiful, doing so well, Solas, kadan--_

“Bull--I’m close--” Solas gasped. He came messily, stripes of come spattering over his chest and midsection. Bull came only a moment later, and the two of them lay together, spent and exhausted. 

Bull pulled out of Solas, and Solas let out a groan at the feeling. 

Solas’ skin was still feverishly warm, and Bull held him close, enjoying the sensation. 

Solas sighed and closed his eyes, a distinctly satiated expression on his face. He curled an arm around Bull, who leaned back beside him. 

“We should probably clean up,” Solas said. 

“For someone who sleeps out in the woods, you’re pretty fussy,” Bull said. 

“You’ve mentioned this before.”

“Only because it’s true,” Bull grinned and looked at him. 

“I suppose it can wait a bit, vhenan,” Solas said, smiling slightly. 

“It is pretty cold outside.”

“Don’t Qunari not mind the cold?”

Bull shrugged. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean I like going out in it.” he pulled Solas close to him, still careful of the recently-healed wound. “Do like the hotsprings, though. Good choice.”

“Of course you would think so--there is a dragon near.” 

“You know exactly what I like, kadan.” however, despite his words, Bull soon sat up and helped Solas to clean off. 

At last, they lay back against the furs, neither speaking. Solas pressed his face to Bull’s shoulder, hiding a smile.

“What is it?” Bull asked. 

Solas shook his head. “You are...a rare individual, vhenan.” 

Bull smiled in return. “Yeah, I could say the same of you.”

“That is something I am quite well aware of.” 

“I figured.”

Neither of them knew how this would end, not any of it. What would happen to the world, or between the two of them.

At that moment, the uncertainty didn’t seem to be important. What mattered for now was that they were both whole, and had each other, and the sky overhead, full of stars.


End file.
